too soon to sigh

if we must echo we won't hear
the day arrives without much heat
the weight is heavy on our feet
but still no more than we can bear
this is a turning of the year
the people rushing on the street
are moving to a single beat
of all that they might have to fear
no matter what we want to say
there's still another door to pass
before we resume our true shape
another blasted working day
another failure of true class
but still no real chance to escape